Life or Death, Is That The Question?
by jmss7
Summary: Between Chapters 3 & 4 of 'Jane' After he has a series of challenging runs, Johnny philosophizes on the role of the paramedic as a mediator between life and death. Jane's memories of her parents' death help provide context for Johnny's journey. Warning: explicit scenes of death and suicidality. Please review.
1. Chapter 1

Life or Death, Is That the Question? Part 1

(Between Chapters 3 & 4 of 'Jane') _After his girlfriend Jane has a flashback of her parents' deaths and he has a series of challenging runs, Johnny philosophizes on the role of the paramedic as a mediator between life and death. __Despite first appearances, this story is only tangentially about Jane; I began with her memories to provide context for Johnny's journey. __Warning: explicit scenes of death and suicidality._

Dixie had just left with Dr Morton to go back to the Emergency ward. Jane was very tired. It had been a long, eventful day and work would come early tomorrow morning whether she wanted it to or not. She rose from the cafeteria table and went to check in with the French speaking car accident victims M. Côté and his grandson Jacques before heading home. In defiance of protocol, a very wise Dixie had arranged that they would share a room instead of Jacques being put on the pediatric floor, so Jane only had to make the one stop.

Two grateful faces smiled at her as she entered the room. She let them know she was heading home, but said that she would come in early the next morning before work, and if they had any questions or concerns, she would help them get some answers. The grandfather was so grateful for Jane's offer and for a paper to write his questions, that he gestured for her to come over to his bed, and when she was near enough, he kissed her hand fervently. She thanked him, and then went to say goodnight to Jacques. She was very touched when he reached up with his little arms and threw them around her neck, clinging to her. "Puis-je voir ma mère? » he whispered in her ear, and she said that she would find out when he could see his mother first thing when she arrived the next day. She tucked him into his bed, and gave him a kiss on his forehead.

"A bientôt, mon cher." See you soon, dear one.

As she climbed into bed at home, her whole body seemed to dissolve with fatigue into the mattress. Within minutes she was asleep.

…Their car was driving along at a good clip – 60 miles an hour on the highway – when the car in front suddenly came to a complete stop. Jane's father slammed on the brakes, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief when they halted with a car length between them. He glanced quickly in the rear view and barely had time to register that the driver behind hadn't noticed they were stopped….Bang! The rear car slammed into theirs, and the distance between it and the car in front disappeared. Bang! Into the rear end of that car…then Bang! Another car slammed into the one behind them, forcing that one again into the back, and BANG! Again into the one in front…and then immediately, BANG! BANG! BANG! Yet another car plowed into the other four.

It had taken only seconds. Jane's eyes were full of something that made it hard to see…she wiped them, and looked around, dazed. Her younger sister had somehow gotten lodged partly under the driver's front seat, the middle of her spine pushed up against the edge of the back seat, her arms flung backwards. She looked twisted up, like a rag doll thrown on the floor. She was unconscious but Jane could see her eyelids fluttering. The back of her head was against the metal door handle and there was blood sluggishly oozing around a wound behind her ear. The back end of the car had been pushed forward into the front on her sister's side…Jane's legs were pinched, but she could move.

Jane looked toward the front seat. "Mom? Dad?" She leaned forward as much as she could, and shook her father's shoulder roughly, suddenly terrified. "Daddy?" She was a teenager, but her voice sounded like a small child's. The windshield was shattered, and glass lay everywhere in the front seat. The dash lay in her father's lap, with the steering wheel pressed up against his chest. She could see him breathing. Oh, thank God! But there was so much blood; where was it coming from?…She turned her head to the right, and gasped when she saw her mother.

She started crying, "Oh! Oh! Oh!..." Her mother's eyes were wide open, and she tried to talk to her daughter but no words came out. Her mom's forehead was an unusual colour…almost a light blue, and as she watched, the pink literally drained from her mother's face… now it was her nose turning blue…she could see the fear in her mother's eyes, locked onto her own. Somewhere, her mother's life blood was leaving her body, but Jane couldn't see from where because the blood was everywhere, she couldn't stop it…

They both knew what was happening, and although Jane could hear the faint sound of sirens getting louder, she knew it was too late…Jane reached out and touched her mother's cheek gently. She wanted to beg her not to leave, but she couldn't ...somehow she had to ease that desperate look on her mother's face… "It's okay. You can go," she whispered. She could see her mother was trying desperately to hang on, struggling, so scared. She tried again, with more firmness. "It's all right, Mom. I'll take care of them." Painful sobs wracked Jane's chest, but there were no tears and she maintained eye contact with her mother.

No, no, no, no, no…please…There was a small gurgling noise from somewhere in her mother's chest, and the light went out of her eyes…she knew she was gone, but then a compulsive breath seemed to come from deep inside her mother and Jane was shocked and confused. How could she still be breathing when she had seen her leave? There were no more breaths. The skin underneath her hand subtly changed texture, and became cool and rubbery, unreal…

Someone was there to help them, too late, much too late…arms reaching in, voices saying things she couldn't process, "Miss? Miss, we need to get you out of there, let me help you…"

She just kept shaking her head, No, no…but somehow she was out of the car, someone was carrying her away from her family…No, no…She started to feebly fight against those anonymous arms, staring uncomprehendingly at the car – there were so many cars, so many people on the ground, there was so much smoke and flames seemed to be coming from her parent's car…. "Daddy! Sue! NO!"

She was fighting more vigorously against the arms that constrained her, and tried to stand, but was unable…the world swam crazily and the ground was moving drunkenly…she was on the ground. She had no idea how she got there. Sounds filled the air and swirled about her in eddies of strident screams and mechanical wails. She tried to focus on the face in front of her, but she couldn't make it out. Nothing made sense.

"You're going to be okay. We're taking you to the hospital. It's going to be all right." There was a sudden whoosh of sound and men swore. Noise increased, and there were shouts and smells of burning…acrid and terrible…feet running…she fell away into a dark place that sucked her down, down, down…

She seemed to be lying down and moving. Someone was talking to her, ordering her to stay awake, to answer him, bossy and insistent; she wasn't going to listen to him. "What is your name? C'mon, tell me your name…" She was irritated; couldn't the person see she was too tired to answer? _Leave me alone_. "No.." she managed to protest weakly, as he pinched at her arm with something. The darkness claimed her again…

She knew she was in bed, but why couldn't she move, and why was the bed bouncing so jerkily? It didn't make sense…Another voice, insisting that she do something. She was rolled onto her side roughly and jerked over to another bed. _That wasn't very nice,_ she thought. "Jane…Jane MacKay! Listen to me! I need you to wake up!" _Stop pinching me_, she thought. "I can't get a vein on this arm, doctor," a female voice said. _Enough! That hurt!_ "Try the other one. Here give it to me." Another pinch and cold flowing into her arm, the sound of tape ripping. "I think she's going to vomit," said yet another voice. _No, I'm not,_ thought Jane. She fought the gag reflex and nausea…_I'll show you_…

Another bed, a quieter room. She opened her eyes as the door opened and several doctors came into the room. The oldest man started talking to the younger white coats… "We have here a female, age 18. She was in a MVA yesterday. What can you tell me about her injuries based on her chart and what you see here?"

The young men looked slightly embarrassed as the doctor unceremoniously threw back her top sheet and pointed to the various wounds on her body. "Notice here, here and here. Now what can you tell me?" _I am not a piece of meat or a lab specimen! _she thought indignantly.

The senior physician turned to one of the scared looking young men and said, "Get a history and meet us back in the lecture room in 15." He looked at Jane without seeing her and said with a pasted smile that quickly came and went and meant nothing, "You're going to be fine." Without another word, without ever having acknowledged Jane at all, he left the room and the other men followed.

The intern sat down on a chair beside her bed, and asked, "What do you remember about the accident?" Jane looked at him in outrage. He wasn't even looking at her. _How dare he!_ She was speechless. When she didn't answer, he checked something off on his clipboard, and then asked, "Have you ever been hospitalized before?" He looked up, saw the look on her face, and had the grace to blush. She said tersely, "I remember enough. I have never been in an accident before."

She stared straight ahead, unable to trust herself to speak without saying something nasty. He got up, looked briefly at his notes, and then parroted, "You're going to be fine." She just shut her eyes and pursed her lips tightly closed. She knew that she would never be fine again. _Never_….

The alarm clock shrilled beside her bed, insisting that she wake. She pulled herself willfully inch by inch out of sleep, not rested at all. She sat up stiffly and buried her head in her hands. The sounds and smells and images in her mind could not be shaken away. She wasn't really a 24 year old school teacher; she was an 18 year old accident victim who had just lost her family.

Could she face a room full of six year olds' energy today? She had promised to check in with the Côté family at the hospital before work, but it physically hurt to think about going anywhere and doing anything.

The phone rang, and Jane reached over automatically to answer it. "'Lo?" she muttered. She just didn't have the energy or the will to talk to anyone.

"Hey, how's my girl? You sleep okay? I'm just getting off shift and I thought I'd see how your evenin' went, before you took off for work." Oh, Johnny. She smiled despite her malaise.

"Um, actually, I had a bad night. Bad dreams." Bad memories in reality…

"Sorry to hear that. 'Cause of the accident yesterday?"

She had to work to answer him. "I think so."

"Listen, I'm real sorry 'bout that. We just needed someone who knew French, and Cap suggested you. I should'a said no…"

"No, Johnny, it was fine. It's just some, uh, issues from the past that kind of got stirred up…"

"Ah," he got it now, "Your parents."

"Yes. I'd better go; I've got to get ready since I promised M. Côté that I would drop by the hospital before work."

"You sure, feelin' like you do?"

"I promised, John, and I'm going in."

"Okay. How's 'bout this? I meet you there and we get some breakfast together – that is, if you got time before school."

"Um, I think I'm going to call in sick today. I don't think the children should be subjected to me right now. But I have to go to the hospital anyway, so yes, I will meet you there, and I would love to have breakfast with you."

"Great! I'll see you soon." She grinned feebly as she hung up the phone. Already she felt a bit better knowing she would see John soon. Nevertheless, she was still going to call in sick; Mrs. Gumby could take her class today. She could face the hospital, barely - especially since her visit wouldn't take too long and Johnny would be there - but there was no way she could face work.


	2. Chapter 2

Life or Death part 2

Jane's principal was concerned when he heard that she wasn't feeling well, and asked if it was related to the intervention she had done the day before. Without going into details, Jane said yes, and told him that she was going to go by the hospital for a quick check in before returning home and resting. He wished her well, and Jane hung up the phone with a minor twinge of guilt and a big sigh of relief.

At the hospital, she went directly to M. Côté's room. Little Jacques was sitting propped up in bed, with a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. His IV had been removed, and his bandages were changed. His grandfather was struggling to drink a cup of weak lukewarm tea and eat some limp toast. "C'est dégueulasse," he complained when he saw her. She smiled in commiseration with him, fairly sure that she would find it 'bloody disgusting' too. His chest was bandaged from some cracked ribs, and his foot was propped up on some pillows.

She sat down on Jacques' bed and as a matter of course began to feed him the oatmeal with encouraging words. M. Côté began asking her questions about how she knew French, and she started telling him about her year in Paris with her family. They began talking about some of the landmarks, and he was holding his side trying not to laugh as she described her trip to the top of the Eiffel tower, and the way she reacted to being up so high after climbing all those stairs.

Johnny entered the room as she was miming clinging to the wall near the stairs of the tower as the rest of the family was looking over the city. He grinned crookedly and raised his eyebrows as he saw her creep sideways along the wall towards the door with her eyes closed, swaying gently back and forth as if on something that was moving. She opened her eyes as her hand touched his arm and gave a squeak and a small jump of surprise. This made Jacques laugh as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen, and Jane had to go calm him down.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?" John asked.

Jane blushed and replied, "Later, okay?"

M. Côté didn't recognize Johnny right away since he wasn't wearing his turn out and helmet, and Jane had to introduce him as the young man who had helped rescue him the day before. After that, both patients were very interested in him.

M. Côté called Johnny over to his bed, and nearly shocked his socks off when he grabbed John's shoulders and pulled him close to kiss him soundly on both cheeks. John looked terrified, and Jane nearly choked with suppressed laughter.

John asked Jane if she was ready to go get some breakfast, with a hint of urgency in his voice. Jane nodded, unconscious softness in her gaze, which led M. Côté to ask bluntly, "Est-il ton copain?" and she blushed again and said that yes, he was her boyfriend. "Bon!" Jane agreed; it was good.

* * *

At breakfast, John chuckled as Jane recounted her story of the Eiffel tower for him, and commented that she probably wouldn't make a very good fireman. Jane opened her eyes very wide and shook her head vehemently. "I leave all that to you, and you're welcome to it!"

"So, you want to tell me about your night last night?

"You mean my dream?" she asked, and he nodded as he bit into a slice of bacon.

She sighed. "It wasn't really a dream, it was a memory." Her face became sorrowful. "I spent the night reliving the car accident my mom died in, in living colour."

He winced. "Aw, I'm sorry, babe."

"Yes, well, I guess the ghosts that got stirred up yesterday really needed to speak."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really – well, not at all, actually – but I think I'd better, since it's all right here in front of my face."

"What is?"

"Seeing my mom die. Seeing my sister's broken body beside me in the back seat. Hearing the car blow up and realizing that's when my dad got so burned…"

"I didn't realize you remembered so much about it."

"Neither did I until I was right there; sights, smells, sounds, everything – during the night. That's why I couldn't face going to work today. I feel…Johnny, I feel like I've just been in a car crash."

He nodded. He knew what trauma could do to a person.

"And now…" she paused, and then continued after she collected herself, "now I see my father lying in the hospital bed, unrecognizable as the man he was just a few hours before…through his bandages I could see he had no hair, skin like raw meat, eyes sunken, obviously in extreme pain…I didn't know whether to pray that he would live or pray that he would die soon…he fought so hard for almost a week…you know, before he died, he apologized to me…" her tears fell unnoticed by her, and John reached out and took her hand with both of his. He didn't say anything, just waited for her to continue when she felt up to it.

"He apologized for anything that he may have done to hurt me in my life, to my mother; I don't know if he knew or remembered that she was dead …when they told us it was a matter of days because his organs were failing, he told he wanted me to be happy, and asked me to forgive him for leaving me alone…that night, he seemed a bit better and I said, 'I'll see you in the morning,' and he smiled although it must have cost him so much pain to do so, and he tried to hold my hand, and said, 'See you'….he must have known…I arrived the next morning, first thing, and the nurse met me at the door, saying, 'You just missed him. He's gone, not five minutes ago,' and I went in, crying out for him…I thought it was bad to watch my mother die, but it was almost worse to miss my dad go…at least she wasn't alone…"

Her emotions overcame her completely, and she couldn't speak, couldn't even sob, so Johnny rose from his seat, and came to her side, kneeling beside her chair and holding her close while stroking her hair. "It's okay, it's okay." They were meaningless words, but they comforted her just the same.

* * *

After breakfast, which she couldn't eat, he followed her home in his car, to make sure she was all right. She invited him in, and he asked, "Are you sure? I mean, you're pretty tired, you had a rough night, and you've got the day off – don't you wanna rest?"

"I want to be with you." She looked at him intently, and ran her finger down the line of his cheekbone. In a strange and powerful reaction, her earlier grief and emotion had somehow transformed into a physical need to be close to this man. He shivered involuntarily and closed his eyes. She slowly traced the line of his mouth, and then kissed his chin. "Hmm. Bit stubbly," she murmured.

He opened his eyes and smiled at her. "I wasn't expecting to need a clean shave."

"I don't mind." She stood on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into him. "Stay. Please. I don't want to be alone," she said with her eyes imploring him.

He had to catch his breath, "Uh…"

"Really. Too many ghosts in this place and in my head. I really need to be distracted…" She kissed his mouth firmly, her hands gently pulling through his dark hair…and his arms wrapped around her more tightly.

When she finally released him, he sighed. "Okay. Okay. I know when I'm beat." He half led, half carried her inside and closed the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

Life or Death part 3

"911, can I help you?"

"Hi."

"Hello, may I help you? Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Is someone hurt at your location?"

"Uh, huh."

"Who is hurt?"

"My mommy."

"Where is your mommy, sweetheart?"

"She's kinda up high – I don' wanna touch her 'cause she's a funny colour, kinda yucky. My skipping rope – it's on her neck... I just got home from school, and there she was. I don't know what to do. Tommy's crying 'cause he's scared. I don't know Daddy's work number. Mommy knows it. She looks real bad. I…I…I'm real scared too. I don't know what to do."

"Okay, honey, someone will be there soon. Where do you live? What is your address?"…

* * *

"Squad 51, possible suicide, small children at scene."

Roy and John grabbed their gear out of the squad just in case there was any possibility of the woman having a spark of life. A girl of about 7 years of age opened the door before they knocked. "The man said you would be here soon. He told me to stay on the phone 'til you got here. Should I hang up?"

Roy wanted to pick up the little girl and hold her close to his heart, but he just told her he would speak to the man before she hung up. Johnny rushed over to the woman hanging from the ceiling and reached to take her wrist – no pulse. His grim face told Roy all he needed to know. Roy radioed to Dispatch, "Squad 51 at scene. Police and child services required."

"10-4, 51. Police en route."

He and Johnny pulled the dining table back under the chandelier, and John climbed up to cut the woman loose, while Roy steadied her legs. Together they eased her down onto the table, and from there onto the floor. John knew from the lividity of the woman's skin and the beginnings of rigor that it was hopeless. The woman's daughter stood nearby. "She looks real bad, mister. I don't like it."

Roy redirected the children into the kitchen and found them some milk to drink while they waited for social services and the police to arrive. He asked them about their father, and did a quick search for a work phone number, all the while talking gently to the children, asking questions about their school, and the things they liked to do. It wasn't just small talk – the information would be helpful to whoever took charge of them while they were waiting for their father.

The ambulance pulled up at the same time as a police car. John heard the soft swearing as the men entered the living room. As soon as the woman's body was loaded onto the stretcher, he signalled to Roy that he would go with the ambulance. It was stupid that they had to wait for a doctor to declare death, when anyone could see how evident it was, but it was the law, so… and it was better for Roy, the family man, to stay with the kids. John listened to his partner's gentle prattle and his heart went out to his friend, and to the children left behind. As he was packing up his gear, he saw something lying partially tucked under the sofa…a piece of paper. It was the woman's suicide note. Without comment, he handed it to the policeman standing there.

Despite having only given the paper a passing look, he had been able to read what was written in the note. "_I hope you will forgive me, but this is for your own good. I cannot be the mother and wife I need to be, and you will all be better off without me. I know you will find someone to take my place who can do a better job at this. I am doing this because I love you too much to make you suffer anymore_."

Johnny climbed into the back of the ambulance with one of the policemen, and sat looking at the dead woman, his hands folded underneath his chin and his elbows resting on his knees. The attendants had covered her face with a sheet, and he felt no desire to pull it back, but he did feel a need to figure things out.

She had a nice home and sweet kids; the family photos on the walls showed smiling faces…he began to talk to her in his mind. '_Tell me what was so terrible that you just couldn't bear living anymore. Your kids love you, I could tell that. You weren't in obvious financial trouble. Maybe your marriage wasn't great, but it's not like you didn't have other options – more and more people are getting divorced these days, and it's not like it used to be. You wrote you felt you weren't doing a good job as wife and mother, but physical evidence says otherwise. You say that you don't want your family to suffer anymore, but I'll tell you, your kids are going to suffer for what they saw today every single day for the rest of their lives, and not only with what they saw, but with what it says about them that you did this. Your husband will never recover. Your family and friends will doubt themselves and worry that they missed something. Your neighbours will wonder and hurt…the effects will go on, and on, and on. So, tell me, tell us all, WHY?_'

Of course there was no answer, but he imagined her spirit trying to explain things to him. '_You are right - on the surface my life looked fine. But inside my head it was all darkness and pain. I couldn't see because of it. I couldn't see my children, my husband, my home, my friends…it was all black. No light, no colour, no life. I don't know why I had these feelings. Maybe it was because of something that happened in my past. Maybe it was because I had something medically wrong with me. All I know is that I had no options. I know you think I had many, but I couldn't see any of them because of my unbearable pain and despair. This was the only choice I could see. Please don't judge me because I couldn't make it._'

He sighed. No, he wouldn't judge her, but he could and would mourn for her lost opportunities and her family's pain and sorrow. '_I hope you find the peace you so desperately craved_,' he thought, as he helped the attendants unload the stretcher at the hospital, and she began her final journey.

* * *

Roy found John in the lounge ignoring a cup of coffee in his hands when he arrived about 15 minutes later. He sat down at the table and sighed deeply. John looked at him with compassion. "So, how're the kids?"

Roy shook his head, "Not so good, but I guess as well as can be expected. Their father was going to meet them at the police station." Roy closed his eyes for a moment, and then sighed again as he reopened them. "I have to say, I've got some anger toward that woman right now."

John nodded, and said, "That's understandable – you were with them while they were in the middle of all this, so you got to see their hurt real close. But y'know, Roy, whatever we think, we'll never know what kind of hell she was living inside her head. We just know it was bad enough that she felt she had no other choice."

"I know; you're right. But it's a good thing we're not allowed to drink on the job, that's all I can say."

"Yeah."


	4. Chapter 4

Life or Death part 4

Squad 51 had just pulled into the barn, when John turned to his partner and said, "Y'know Roy, I've been thinkin'."

"Uh,oh." Roy put the squad in park.

"What? I'm serious here."

"Okay, I'll bite. What have you been thinking?"

"Life and death."

Roy was flabbergasted. "Wha…?"

"Well, y'see, we deal with 'em all the time. Like right there. More'n anyone else I bet, maybe even the docs. I mean, how many babies have you delivered so far?"

"I dunno. Quite a few, I guess. I could sit down and count them if you'd like."

"Naw, I don't mean that. No, wait, I do mean that. You'd have to sit down to count 'em. That's a lot."

"Yeah, so?"

"It's just that…like…y'see, we've also seen a lot of people die."

Roy nodded. "It's the nature of the job." He opened the driver's door and climbed out.

John followed, and leaned on the hood to talk to Roy. "That's exactly what I'm talking about! Our job! At the hospital, babies are usually born in the maternity ward – specialized doctors and nurses take care of them. People die, well, I guess they die all over the place, but that's not what I'm tryin' to say."

"I would really like to know what you're trying to say, because trying to figure you out is hurting my head." Roy came around to the same side as John and leaned against the squad's equipment doors with folded arms, while looking at his exasperating partner.

"See, it's like this. I think we see more dead people too, because we get there first – the ones who are already gone; the ones who go while we're tryin' to save them, the ones that go when they get to the hospital…we see an awful lot of dead people – more'n anybody 'cept maybe the undertaker."

"This is getting pretty morbid, Johnny, and I still don't know why you're going on about this."

The two men walked into the kitchen and over to the stove to pour themselves some coffee. "No, no, you still aren't getting it. It's not morbid, 'cause of the life bit. _Life_ and death."

"Life and death." Roy took a sip of his coffee. He knew his partner well enough by now to know that if he just repeated what Johnny was saying now and then, John would think that he, Roy, understood. It was a successful way to save his sanity when having these conversations with John Gage.

"Yeah! That's it! That's it, Roy!"

"Nope. Still lost." Roy sat down at the table and looked longingly at the newspaper, which he'd love to just leaf through and maybe look at the sports or movie section…but there was no point until Johnny was finished whatever he was trying to express.

"Man, you can be so frustrating at times!" exclaimed Johnny and Roy looked at him incredulously. _He_ was frustrating? John continued, "We rescue people."

"I know that."

"You're still not getting it. That's why we are closest to _life_. And to _death_. It's us."

Roy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "What's us, Johnny? What?" The alarm rang, and as Roy rose from the table, he didn't know whether he was grateful or not, because for sure, when Johnny got a bee in his bonnet like this, it wasn't going away until something else came along that took its place or distracted him. Right now, Roy didn't know if he wanted to understand where Johnny was going with all this, or if he wanted it to just disappear, like so many of John's hang-ups often did.

* * *

"Squad 51, injured child…."

It was a house off the beaten path, run down; a badly tended subsistence garden growing in the front yard. Several dogs barked behind a rickety fence. They could hear yelling inside the house as the squad pulled up.

Roy banged on the door – they couldn't be heard just by knocking politely. "Paramedics! Hello!"

A man came to the door. He looked angry and a little scared. "Through there!" he said tersely and pointed toward the back of the house. In the kitchen a woman was keening and mopping up something dark on the floor. A little boy with a halo of blond hair sat on a chair near the table, just looking around. There was blood all over him. Johnny pushed past Roy and started checking the child for injuries.

Roy took hold of the wailing woman's shoulders and turned her to face him, saying firmly and slowly, "What happened here?"

She didn't answer, but her husband did. "I told her not to call you. We can take care of this."

Johnny looked up from the child and said in wonder, "I can't find any injuries, Roy." He then turned to the woman, "Ma'am, whose blood is this?" She shook her head 'no' and sat on her haunches on the floor.

"It's only the stupid dog's," replied her husband.

Roy asked for clarification, "This blood on this child, it came from a dog?"

Johnny stood up and started looking around for the animal. Just outside the back door, there it was, a mutt about the same size as the child, lying with a pair of kitchen shears sticking out of its flank, its blood having flowed out over the stone steps. "Who did this?" John asked in a quiet voice. The dog was dead.

Both the mother and father pointed their fingers at the child sitting at the table. "He did."

Roy looked at the small child incredulously. "How old is he?"

"Four."

The woman looked up from the floor. "It's not the first time…he killed the kittens a few weeks ago."

It was rare that the paramedics encountered something that made their stomachs roll over because they were used to seeing horrific things, but both men struggled to keep their equilibrium. Wordlessly they signaled to each other that they needed to talk about this, and met out the back door away from the dead dog.

"What do we do, Roy? Do we call Rampart for the kid?"

"I dunno, but I think we'd better. I can't believe this!"

"What are we going to say?"

"The truth."

"What, that we have a homicidal four year old who looks like a cherub?"

"What else can we do, Johnny?"

His partner looked grim. "I'll make the call."

They went back inside, and told the parents that they were going to call for an ambulance to take the child to the hospital, but the father refused. "I'll take him to our doctor. He's not hurt. He's just got somethin' wrong in his head."

"Sir, I really think you should get some immediate help for your son."

"Yeah, well thanks for your opinion, but last time I looked, I'm his father, not you, and I say, get off my property!"

John took one last look at the child sitting on the chair, fresh blood splattered onto his face, shirt and arms; apparently oblivious to what was going on. The two men picked up their cases and walked back through the house to the squad. They could hear the boy's mother saying, "Maybe he should go, Bert…"

"I said NO." they heard the man reply.

Johnny called in their availability, and he and Roy drove away, each man thinking, '_What on earth could cause a little kid to kill animals like that_?' After a few minutes of silence, Roy asked John, "So, tell me how that run fits into your life and death view."

Johnny just shook his head. "Makes you wonder what kind of life they live out there, that's for sure."

"Yeah, it sure does that."

"Y'think we should've called the cops?"

"And say what? What are they going to do, Johnny? Arrest a four year old?"

"Man, sometimes I just don't get it. How can they just let him sit there? Did'ja see the kid's eyes? Totally empty, like there was no one home."

"I didn't, but I can imagine they would have to be like that. I look at my kids, and there's no way in a million years…I mean, Jenny cries if I kill a spider for Joanne!"

"I wish there was something we could do."

"You think of something, let me know."


	5. Chapter 5

Life or Death part 5

"Squad 51, pedestrian hit by a car, corner Wilmington and…." They were off again, before they even got back to the station. When they arrived at the scene, the police were already there, and their patrolman friend Chuck informed Roy that an ambulance had been called. A woman in her forties was lying in the road, and a small crowd had gathered near her.

"Excuse us, please. Excuse us…"

The woman was conscious and somewhat combative. "Leave me alone! Let me be!" She was crying.

"It's going to be okay, ma'am. Just relax, we're going to take good care of you," Roy said in a soothing voice.

"You don't understand! I don't want to be okay! I want it to be over!"

"What do you mean?"

"I want to die…just leave me alone!"she cried. Johnny looked up, raised his eyebrows and gave a small shake of his head as he looked at Roy. Her vitals were all normal.

Roy interpreted his partner's signal, "Well, now, it doesn't look like you're going to do that today, ma'am. You see, your injuries aren't bad - you just need to get cleaned up a bit, and get some of these cuts properly attended to…and the best place to do that is the hospital."

"No, no, why won't you leave me alone?"

"Well, y'see, it's our job to take care of people."

Just then, the driver of the car that hit her came over – he had been giving his statement to the policeman. At first he was very concerned, but when he overheard that she had tried to kill herself, he became furious. "You're crazy, lady! How dare you use me for your attempted self-murder! You should be locked up! What about my feelings? What about my car? What about what this would have done to me and my family if you had succeeded in your stupid stunt?"

Chuck tried to calm the man down, but he was beside himself with fury, and continued to rant about the woman's selfish inconsideration. Roy looked over at the woman, who was sniffing and pouting as she lay on the ground. He said to her conversationally, "Can we help you, ma'am? Or do you really want us to just go away and leave you here with everyone staring at you or mad at you?"

She looked at all the disapproving faces around her and reluctantly gave her consent for treatment. As Johnny set up an IV TKO on Rampart's recommendation, Roy continued to talk to her gently, "Perhaps that driver's got a point. It might not be fair to drag a perfect stranger into this situation, when you think of it."

The ambulance arrived, and as she was being loaded onto the stretcher, she replied, "Maybe it's not fair, but my life isn't fair either."

He agreed with her, "No, it's probably not." He climbed in and sat down beside her and said compassionately, "I don't know many people who could say that life is fair, but we just gotta do the best we can. That's something you could talk to the doctors at Rampart about, if you like."

Johnny closed the ambulance doors, and banged them twice to let the driver know he could go. He considered what Roy had said. Smart man, his partner.

* * *

Dr Early asked to talk with Roy about the woman they had found in the street. "You say she did this deliberately? It was a suicide attempt?"

"That's right, doc. She was pretty clear about it – didn't want our help, just wanted to lie there and die."

"Hmm. Well, I'll get psychiatry to look at her, but I wonder how serious she really was. All she has is some cuts and bruises." Roy nodded just as Johnny came up to both men.

"So, how is she?" he asked.

"She'll be absolutely fine, unless she tries something else. No real injuries," stated Joe.

"You should'a heard the driver of the car - she wouldn't be fine if he got hold of her!" said John.

Roy commented, "Well, can you blame him?"

"Oh, no. No, I don't blame him at all. I'd feel the same way if I was him."

Joe put his hand on Roy's arm, "Okay, guys. Take care."

The two men nodded, and walked back out to the squad.

In the treatment room, Dr Early started talking with the woman, whose name was Maria. "Do you want to talk about it? About why you deliberately ran in front of the car?"

Maria turned her head away from him. "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not, but I might." She didn't respond, so he continued, "You know, we see a lot of people in this emergency ward, and some of them, like you, have tried to take their own lives. Let me tell you something about the ones who try to do it by jumping in front of moving vehicles. We have a good emergency response program, with the paramedics and the fire department, and usually it's only a few minutes until they arrive at the scene of an accident."

Maria still had her head turned away from him, but he could tell she was listening, so he went on, "And they're very well trained too, so they know how to deal with a wide range of injuries. You know, one of the most common injuries in a pedestrian car accident is head injury."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to realize something; the chances of you dying from what you did today are actually slim. However, the chances of you ending up with a debilitating head trauma or permanent disability are pretty good."

"So?"

"So, instead of ending your emotional pain, you are more likely to end your days of being able to walk or talk clearly. You are more likely to be trapped in a broken body sitting in a rehabilitation center relearning how to do the basic things that you learned as an infant."

She turned to look at him. "It's my life – I can throw it away if I want to!"

"But you see, Maria, it doesn't just affect you. Even if you had no family, no friends, no coworkers, no one at all, it would affect the people physically present at the time. Like the man who struck you with his car – he will have that image in his memory for the rest of his life – did he do something to you to deserve that?"

"No, but maybe he did something to someone else!"

"C'mon, Maria, you know that's not right. Even if he did do something to someone else, it's not up to you to decide that he has to carry around the burden of your choices for the rest of his life."

"So maybe next time I'll just take pills. Just fall asleep."

"Do you know what happens to people who take pills? They vomit, even when they're unconscious. It's very messy. And when your heart starts to react to the overdose, you have to go on a heart monitor. That means your clothes have to come off. So it's not quite the dignified way to go some people imagine it is. You don't just fall asleep and that's it. All kinds of things go on." Maria was silent. Joe waited a moment for his words to sink in and then continued, "I want you to consider that there may be another way to ease your pain that doesn't involve trying to end your life. Can you try to imagine that might be possible?"

"I don't know how."

"You don't need to know how – we have professionals here who are trained to help you find the best way for you to get back some peace of mind. Are you willing to give them a try? What can it hurt?"

"Okay, I'll try."

"That's great, Maria. I'm sure that with some help you'll feel better soon."


	6. Chapter 6

Life or Death part 6

At the nurse's station, Dix mentioned to Johnny that she had seen Jane heading upstairs to the Côté family's room a little while earlier. He looked at Roy.

"Sure, go on up. I'll come get you if we're called," Roy responded to his unasked question.

Jane was sitting on Jacques bed. She had explained to him several days earlier that the doctors had to do an operation on his mother and that he needed to wait until she was awake until he could see her. His mother still wasn't conscious, so Jane was helping him understand that she needed time to heal and that the best healing right now was to let her rest completely.

Jacques and his grandfather were going to be discharged, and would be staying in a nearby motel. The little boy was terrified that he would never see his mother again if he left the hospital. She soothed his fears, and was cuddling him in her arms when Johnny entered the room. She looked so beautiful to John right then, holding the child, with her long red hair cascading over her arms that he almost had to catch his breath. Wow. That was his girl. How did that happen?

Jane noticed him standing there and smiled up at him, her feelings for him evident in her eyes. Uh, oh. Where was this all going? Johnny felt suddenly unsure of himself, and almost turned and ran out of the room.

Fortunately, M. Côté redirected the moment by saying in broken English, "'Allo, Jawn –knee. I am 'appy to zee you. 'Ow har' you? Eh, bien, c'n'est pas facile, cette langue!" Both Jane and Johnny couldn't help laughing at his obvious frustration.

Not to be outdone, John asked Jane, "How do you say, I'm fine, thanks?"

"Je suis bien, merci."

"Okay, here goes. Je sweeze bee-en, mercy. » he said slowly and deliberately, while Jane winced and giggled.

Jacques piped up, « Puis-je visiter la caserne des pompiers? S'il vous plait, Jawn-knee? »

"He wants to know when he can visit the fire station." Jane looked at John hopefully, "It might help distract him from being worried about his mother, and since they are being discharged from the hospital, it would give them something to do. What do you say?"

Roy opened the door and stuck his head into the room, "Hey, pard, time to go."

John nodded and said, "I'll let you know," to Jane.

John spoke to Captain Stanley when they arrived back at the station, and he was fine with letting the Côtés come visit, but insisted that Jane had to be there too, so that someone could communicate with the family. "Whenever, John; just make sure they give us a little warning, okay?" Big Red was toned out for a trash fire just then, leaving the paramedics alone in the station.

As the two men entered the kitchen, John took up their conversation from the morning as if there hadn't been several runs or visits to the hospital…it always amazed Roy when he did that.

"So, like I was telling ya, this life and death thing…"

"Can you at least tell me what started all this?"

To Roy's surprise, Johnny blushed. "Uh, well…"

Roy had had enough. He looked at his partner sternly, and said, "You are not going to destroy my sanity today. Sit." John sat. "Now tell me." As John opened his mouth, Roy sat down in the chair beside him, pointed his finger in his partner's face and added, "Without going off all over the place!"

Johnny shrugged, "It's… I don't know, I mean, you'd think it… but I guess that's just what happens sometimes…"

Roy shook his head firmly. "Nope. Try again."

"Jane got all physical with me after she told me about her parents dying."

Roy was stupefied. "What?"

Now that it was out, Johnny was able to talk more freely. "Yeah. After helping us at that accident, she had… she remembered the accident that killed her family – with all the details."

"I'm real sorry to hear that."

"I know, me too. She told me about it when we were at Rampart for breakfast the other day. It was pretty bad." He looked at his partner, who had raised his eyebrows. "She was visiting the Côtés, and I said let's grab something to eat. I don't take dates to Rampart's cafeteria." Roy looked skeptical, but John just made an impatient movement with his hands and then continued, "So, I went to her house to make sure she was all right, and then it was like, I dunno, a switch or something, she was just all over me."

"Really."

"Yeah! So we, uh…well, anyway, we talked about it, and we decided that it had something to do with death. And life."

"Death and life."

"Yeah, it's like this – she remembered, like it just happened, being so close to dying, seeing people dying, and I was there, and I guess she just needed to feel alive."

Roy thought about that. It was true that some of the most passionate or tender times he and Joanne had shared had been after 'close calls'. He also remembered that when he had lost someone, there was a real need to be physically close to someone else, whether it was just through reassuring touch, or something more intense…maybe his partner wasn't as off the wall as he had first appeared to be.

"Okay, I guess we all get a bit of that at times," Roy conceded. Then he added reflectively, "But I think it might be more the sudden ones, the ones you don't expect, that lead to that."

"Right! I know when things've happened to me, there's been times that…" Johnny realized that he might be on the verge of giving too much information as he wasn't a married man like his partner, and changed what he was going to say. "So, anyway, it got me thinkin' 'bout it. Life and death."

"I'm following…"

John pulled his chair closer to Roy so he could expound his ideas even more. "Like you said earlier, it's our job. We're there when there's new life, when a life is saved, when life goes…It's like, it's like…"

The tones sounded and the two men rose, their conversation halted again. But this time Roy reflected that there really was more to John Gage than people thought. Johnny Gage, philosopher, who knew? He was actually looking forward to resuming this conversation when they got the chance.

* * *

When they returned to the station after their run, Roy entered the kitchen first with John following closely behind. Chet was sitting at the table in full swing, recounting an incident that had happened when he had been doing an extra shift under Captain Hookrader. A female trainee had been assigned to the shift. The paramedics pulled up chairs to the table where the rest of the crew was sitting, with the exception of Captain Stanley.

"So Hookrader comes in, y'know, all full of, 'I am the Captain and this is MY station', and sees this probie, this _girl _probie, sitting in HIS chair. Well, we were all waiting for it…waiting for it…and then it came, 'WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING IN _MY_ CHAIR?' I mean, the place was shaking, y'know? And she just looks up at him and says in this really squeaky nasal voice, 'Oh, Archie! I didn't know you was home!' and goes on sitting there!"

After the initial shock, they all spontaneously burst out laughing. Chet continued, "And…get this! He _lets_ her!" He shook his head in disbelief. "I would'a never believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Never."

When they calmed down enough, Chet went on, "Wait! I'm not finished! There's more! After shift she gets changed, hair down, makeup on - guess she's going somewhere - and she walks back into the room, saying, 'Have a nice day, Captain,' as sweetly as you please. I mean, sugar just pouring out of her mouth. He looks at her and says, 'Do I know you?' She nods and says her name, and then…" Chet starts chuckling so hard he can barely get the words out. "Then Hookrader - Hookrader says in his 'Captain's voice'…and this is no lie! 'Humph, I didn't recognize you with your clothes on.'" That was it. The laughter was uncontrolled.


	7. Chapter 7

Life or Death part 7

The next Saturday that A shift was on duty, Jane introduced M. Réal Côté to the Station crew. "Captain Stanley…"

"Mon cher capitane, merci mille fois pour sauver les vies de ma famille. »

"He says thank you for saving the lives of his family."

"No problem, sir, it's what we do. Pleasure to see you." The two men shook hands and Jane continued with her introductions.

"Mike Stoker, Ingénieur…" Mike bowed slightly and shook M. Côté's hand. Jane smiled and said, "You know that's where we get the English word, ingenious, don't you? And it really suits you." Mike smiled and grew a little pink in the face. "Marco Lopez, pompier…"

Chet jumped in, "We know, from the water pumps, right?" and shook M. Côté's hand right after Marco, saying, "Chet Kelly, also pump – yay."

« Vous êtes si généreux pour nous permettre de venir ici. »

"It's kind of you to allow them to visit."

"No problem. We're real happy to see you up and about and looking well. And how is your daughter?" asked Cap. Through Jane, Réal explained that she was still in a coma after her surgery, but that the doctors were optimistic for her recovery, and so he and Jacques were too.

Marco invited them to stay for lunch, and added that hopefully by then the paramedics would have returned from their run. After a token show of polite reluctance, Réal agreed.

Jacques loved climbing all over Big Red, and Jane was kept very busy translating back and forth between Mike and the boy. They appeared to have a natural affinity, despite their language barrier. After he climbed down for the fifth time from the cab, he announced to everyone that he was going to be a fireman engineer when he grew up, just like his new friend, "Monsieur Stock – hair."

When Roy and John arrived a few minutes later, Jane introduced Roy to Réal and Jacques. Jacques started giggling so hard he bent over when he heard Roy's name, and Roy asked apprehensively, "Why is he laughing?"

Jacques straightened up and looked at his grandfather with glee, "Le roi de sot, oh!"

His grandfather started to chuckle too, and Jane said, "Oh, dear." Johnny couldn't wait to find out what was so funny, and begged Jane to translate. "It means, uh, it means…"

"Jane…" Roy said warningly, "I want to know why they are laughing at my name."

She took a deep breath and said quickly, "It means 'the king of fool, oh'."

"Noo…" said Johnny, unable to conceal his delight. "The king of fool? That's great! That's fantastic! Hey, Roy, d'ya think your parents knew?"

"Hah, hah, hah." Roy responded in a flat voice. "I'm going to get some coffee." He nodded toward M. Cote and his grandson and walked into the kitchen, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth, as Johnny bounded in after him, "Hey, guys, you'll never guess what Roy's name means in French…king of fool! Ha!"

Jane came up to Roy and said with an apologetic look, "I'm so sorry."

"Please tell me his name means something rude in French," Roy asked while looking at his partner.

She shook her head, "No, I'm afraid it doesn't." Roy sighed.

* * *

Jacques loved the chili lunch that Chet had made, "C'est très américaine!"

"I take that as a compliment, young master Jack," responded Chet. The alarm was blissfully quiet, and they were able to finish their meal.

"Someone must like you, Mon –see-ur. We don't usually get through lunch without a run," commented Marco.

"I tink someone 'av like you, mon brav'. 'E donne à you le temps pour eat. »

When they were finished their meal, Réal turned to the men at the table and said formally, "S'ils vous plaisent, messieurs, accepter mes sentiments les meilleurs pour toute gentillesse que vous avez nous donner. »

"He says, 'thank you'," interpreted Jane.

"How come it's so much shorter when you say it?" asked Chet.

"Because he did it a lot more politely," Jane grinned.

"Well, I want to know what he really said. Exactly," said Chet, and the other men looked at Jane expectantly.

"Okay, exactly? 'If it pleases you, gentlemen, accept my best feelings for all kindness that you have given to us.'"

"And that's how they say 'thank you' in France?" asked Roy.

"Basically. French is a very formal language. It's also known as the language of love."

"I thought that was Spanish," grinned Marco.

"And you would know," Chet shot back at him and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

* * *

While the men cleaned up the residue of their meal and did their assigned chores, M. Côté looked around at the squad, and began humming. Jane thought that she recognized the tune. "C'est Mozart, n'est pas?"

"Oui, Ave Verum Corpus." Jane started singing along with his humming, and the men in the kitchen stopped what they were doing to hear the soaring soprano in the rig bay. They wandered into the bay, and found that M. Côté was singing along with Jane in a tremulous tenor. Suddenly another voice joined in…a rich baritone that blended beautifully with Jane's soprano…it was Roy.

As the last note drifted away, Mike said it first, "Wow."

"Yeah, well, it's the acoustics in here – big ceiling and the sound bounces around."

Cap wouldn't let him get away with that one. "I don't think so, Roy. That was truly beautiful. Thank you; and you too, Jane."

"Where did you learn that? That was Latin, wasn't it?" asked John.

Roy spoke first, "I learned it in high school – we sang it for a concert one year."

"Me too!" said Jane, smiling at him with pleasure.

"Well, I knew you used to sing barbershop, Roy, but that was a real treat. A real treat. I'm going to remember this for a long time," said Cap.

The alarm sounded, breaking the spell, and causing the men to switch immediately into professional mode. They were being called out to a fire at a local high school "...use back entrance. Time out 13.23."


	8. Chapter 8

Life or Death part 8

When Big Red and the squad pulled up at the rear of the school, the principal ran over to meet Captain Stanley. "We've just had some renovations done to the welding shop." The fire could be seen already starting to come through the roof of the building. Captain Stanley asked if everyone was evacuated. "We're still doing a head count – we were starting an assembly when the alarm went off…" He noticed the Captain's raised eyebrows. "… I'll go find out."

"Do that, and let me know right away." Cap started ordering two and a halfs to be set up, and called to Roy and John, "Stay close till we hear everyone's out, 'kay?" The two men nodded, and helped pull another line from the engine. Captain Stanley called dispatch for more help – with fire showing in the roof, things were going to be very busy, very soon.

The principal came jogging up and said breathlessly, "We got two kids missing. Everyone else is out."

Cap called, "John! Roy!" and turned back to the man. "Where were they supposed to be and has anyone seen them recently?"

The principal shook his head. "They were supposed to be in the assembly, but it looks like they went to the washroom."

"Boys or girls?"

"Two boys. Grade nine. Steven Westlake and Derek Cook."

Cap nodded, and looked at his paramedics, who were completing putting on their SCBA gear. "You got that?"

"Where's the nearest washroom they'll have gone to?" asked Roy.

"In the rear hallway, behind the gymnasium."

"Near this exit?"

"On the other side, toward the cafeteria." Both Roy and John nodded in unison, and took off at a trot into the school. Officer Vince showed up to help coordinate containing the students at a safe distance, and he parked his vehicle along with several other police cars to block off the street at both ends while the fire trucks arrived and did their work.

Inside the school, smoke was beginning to crawl along the ceiling tiles. "Looks like the welding shop is also behind the cafeteria!" called John to his partner, pointing. Like ghostly fingers they could see the creeping smoke edging its way toward them.

Roy nodded, and scanned the hallway. "Gotta be near here…"

They found the washrooms, and called out to the missing teens, "Hey! Hello! Anyone in here? Hello! Fire Department!"

There was no response and a quick check of the stalls showed no one was there. "You try the cafeteria; I'll take the rear hallway!"

John nodded, and headed towards the kitchen in the back. He didn't find anyone, but when he rejoined Roy he said, "They haven't cleaned up from lunch. Vats of hot oil, open bags of flour, gonna be messy!" They did a quick scan of the area near the welding shop and back towards the cafeteria, then on to the gym. They did another scan inside the gym and into the locker rooms.

John noticed a door they hadn't checked and pointed it out to Roy. He threw it open and they saw steps leading to a basement. It was surprising, because schools just weren't built with basements, but maybe this was a throwback to the 1950s and the craze for bomb shelters…they headed down the steps, needing to use their flashlights. Both men were aware that this search was taking a lot more time than they had. If they didn't find the teens soon, their own exits might be blocked. Their sense of urgency increased.

The basement was filled with junk – old weight equipment and sports gear; beat up decorations from dances and holidays, boxes of uniforms…the latter all highly flammable. After calling for the boys and getting no answer, they headed back up the stairs and came into the gym. They felt the temperature difference immediately, and saw that the smoke was already entering the gym…they had no more time. But they hadn't found the missing kids.

Roy needed to let Cap know what was happening. "Engine 51, this is HT 51, do you copy?"

"Engine 51. Go ahead."

"Cap, there's no sign of the kids anywhere and it's getting…" BOOM! There was an explosion – the cafeteria kitchen had caught fire – soon there would be…BOOM! BOOM! Flames raced along the ceiling towards them gobbling up the acoustic tiles, and the two men ran toward the emergency exit at the far end of the gym…

"HT 51, respond!" barked Captain Stanley on the radio, but they were too busy getting out of there to reply. They reached the door, and pushed it open, practically falling over each other into the yard. Several more engine companies had joined the fight since they'd entered the school several minutes before. The scene was now the organized chaos of a major fire. Damn it! Where were those kids? If they were still inside…

They found their captain, and Roy reported, "Cap, there's a basement filled with junk and a custodial closet near the top of the stairs."

Cap was not impressed. The closet was sure to have floor wax and polishes and maybe even paint thinner. The fire had reached the gym; any moment now the closet would go and then the basement… He got on his HT and let the other captains know, and a crew headed into the gym that Roy and John just exited in order to stave off what they could. He told his paramedics, "Go round to the other side of the school, and see if you can get back in there to check things out." Cap hated to do that to his men, but until the kids were found, the search had to continue as long as possible.

John and Roy jogged around to the side entrance away from the blazing cafeteria and shops area. As they paused just before re-entering the school, Johnny commented to his partner, "Bet you they have a wood shop right beside the welding…." Roy nodded. For some reason, the possibility of what could happen from having acetylene torches next to wood dust didn't seem to be a consideration when schools set up their shop areas. BOOM! The school reverberated and shuddered. They both knew that the custodial supply closet had probably just blown. The school was now fully involved in the rear, from the shops area, through the cafeteria and the gym. They pushed open the metal doors, and began calling for the missing boys.

They split up to cover opposite sides of the hallway. There was still no sign of the teens. When they got back as close as they could to the washrooms, the smoke was completely filling the hallway, and through the shifting opaque curtain the roar and heat of the fire assaulted them. Roy called it – "Let's go – no time left, and we're back as close to where we started as we can get."

"I think they're out. They must be out," said Johnny. They headed to the nearest clear exit after getting confirmation from Cap over the HT that there was nothing more to do inside. He sent them to go see the principal, to check if there was any new information on the boys.

The principal called over to one of the teachers, and he came jogging over. "Brian, can you check again with your class; did anyone see Steve and Derek since the alarms went?" Brian ran over to his class, and a girl with glasses pointed over to the far end of the street, beyond the police barrier. Another girl took off running towards it, calling the boys' names, despite the teacher's yell for her to stop.

Roy and Johnny began chasing the girl to catch up with her, but their heavy gear made them slower than she was, and she had a good head start. "Hey! Hey you! Stop! Wait!" Johnny called, but she either ignored them or didn't hear, because she ran between two cars and into the open street….thunk! She was down on the ground, her head just touching the passenger side front wheel of a car. She was literally looking at tire tread. Immediately Roy got on the HT and called for Cap to send someone with their cases.

John reached her first. "Easy, now, easy. Just stay still. Don't move till I check you out okay?"

She was moaning and trying to move and the driver of the car was out on the street, horrified at having hit the student. Johnny did a cursory check, and then turned to Roy. "Possible head injury. Got some swelling already starting on the right temple."

The man was almost babbling in shock, "She just ran out! I didn't see her at all! I tried to stop! I didn't see her!" Vince came to take care of the driver, and reassured him that everyone had seen that the accident hadn't been his fault.

While Roy was setting up their equipment, he called over to the crowd that was on the sidewalk, "Anyone one here named Steve or Derek? Any students from the school here?" A boy with acne tentatively raised his hand, and Roy demanded, "What's your name?"

"Derek Cook, sir."

"Where's Steve, Derek?"

The boy pointed to another pimply youth standing near the corner of the street and looking at the girl on the ground by the car with horror. He looked at Roy, then at John, and Roy called sharply to Vince to grab him as he made a move as if he was going to run.

"Whoa, there, son. You aren't going anywhere. Aren't you and your buddy supposed to be with your class, over there?" Vince pointed to where the students were standing in lines at the far end of the parking lot.

The boy shamefacedly nodded. "Are we in trouble, sir?"

"You realize that because no one knew where you were, these two firemen were in that burning building looking all over for you? That they could have been seriously injured for no reason? That this girl's accident is directly related to you not being where you were supposed to be?" Vince's tone was as severe as it could be.

"Are we under arrest?" asked Steve.

"We didn't know!" cried Derek.

"You should have known! How old are you? Fifteen? And you've had fire drills every year you've gone to school! That's quite a few years of learning what to do when there's an alarm! I want to speak with your parents. Come with me, you're going to sit in the back of this police car, and think about what you've done today." The boys started to speak, but Vince held up his handcuffs in a no-nonsense manner, and just pointed at the car. They got in without further argument.

While Vince was dealing with the boys, Roy informed his captain that the missing teens had finally been found, and that they were all right.

Johnny collected the vitals on the girl on the ground. There was no broken skin, but he touched a swelling area on her temple gently, and it felt like there were bone chips moving around in the flesh. What really worried him was that she wasn't very coherent and didn't seem to understand what was happening. The rest of her injuries were minor cuts and scrapes from landing on the asphalt. "Rampart, this is squad 51, do you read?"

"Go ahead, 51, this is Rampart."

"Rampart, we have a female, age 15, victim of a pedestrian car accident…" He gave her vitals to Dr Brackett over the bio-phone.

"Any fluid present in ears or nose, 51?"

"That's negative, Rampart, but patient is confused and has swelling on the left temple, with bruising beginning around the left eye socket. Pupils are unequal."

"10-4, 51; stabilize head and neck…"

Just then the girl started to retch. Johnny was able to turn her enough onto her side, while supporting her neck, so that most of the vomit landed on the ground. Roy was there with the backboard and cervical collar, and as soon as she stopped being sick he and John got her immobilized. An IV was established and they got her ready for transport. Their experience told them to expect that she was probably heading for surger p.


	9. Chapter 9

Life or Death part 9

Several hours later, after the school fire had finally been put out, Roy and John were back at Rampart, having come back with a couple of firefighters who had minor smoke inhalation that needed to be checked out before they could be cleared to return to duty. John asked Dixie how the girl with the head injury was doing. "She made it through surgery. In fact, here comes her surgeon now." They saw a tall man they did not recognize talking with Dr Brackett as the two men exited the elevator.

They were bemused to overhear the unknown doctor say to Brackett, "Actually, Kelly, I really don't like being around people. In fact, the only time I feel comfortable with others is when they're unconscious and I'm holding a knife."

Kelly laughed and patted the other man on the back, "Yeah, I know what you mean, Syd."

Roy and Johnny looked at each other with their eyes wide at this view of the doctors, and then turned to look at Dixie. It was obvious she had overheard the men too, as she gave a rueful grin, shrugged and said in an under-voice, "Explains a lot, doesn't it?"

Kelly introduced the paramedics to Dr Engel and said that he was a neurosurgeon friend who had just done the surgery on the teenager they had brought in earlier. "I expect a good recovery," replied Dr Engel to Roy's question about how she was doing.

John was curious, so he asked, "How'd'ja know you wanted to be a brain surgeon, doc?"

Syd chuckled. "It's not a pretty story, but it's the truth. When I was a kid, I used to catch frogs and fish and things. I wanted to see how they worked so I would take them apart and see if I could put them back together."

Roy looked at the man with fascination. "I used to do that with radios and things, but I can't say it ever occurred to me to try it on something living."

"And that's why I do what I do, and why you do what you do," replied Engel. He smiled and walked away with Brackett.

Johnny leaned in toward Dixie, "Is he a good doctor?" he asked.

She nodded, "Very good."

Roy picked up their supplies, "A bit scary, don't you find?"

"Ah, Roy, you gotta remember, I work with these men all the time. It takes all kinds. I'm not afraid of any one of them."

The partners grinned and as they walked away, Johnny said to Roy, "In fact, I bet they're probably all scared of her!"

Roy agreed, "With good reason."

"Yep."

* * *

"What's wrong, Dixie?" Dr Kelly Brackett, not usually the most astute or observant of men when it came to female emotions, noticed that his favourite nurse was breathing hard and clenching her teeth as she closed a file that was before her on the desk of the nurse's station. He had just walked back from his office where he had left Dr Engel making some phone calls.

"Sorry, Kell. I'm so angry I can't talk." Her chest rose and fell rapidly and she chewed at her lower lip in an effort to control her feelings.

"Walk with me," he said in his abrupt way. When she didn't respond, he continued more gently, "Let's go and get some air. Things will be okay here for a few minutes. Carole, take over, will you? We'll be gone for about 15 minutes. Page me if you need to." He turned to the second most dependable nurse in the emergency department, who was standing not too far away.

"Of course, Dr Brackett," Carole replied, and smoothly took over control as Brackett and Dixie walked away.

As soon as they were outside, he turned to his companion and asked, "So, what's up?"

"It's the Spearman kid," she tersely replied.

"Ah." He waited, knowing that it wouldn't be long now until she would begin to vent. She marched along in military fashion for a moment or two more, and then stopped and turned to look at Kelly.

"Is it ignorance or maliciousness or arrogance or…." she drifted off.

"Is what, Dix?" He asked kindly, his brows drawing together in characteristic fashion.

"I was just reading the file on that baby – we got the neurologist's report a little while ago."

"And?"

Tears filled her eyes, and she brushed them away abruptly. "That little boy will be in a wheelchair the rest of his life. He will have to have specialized care – probably never speak, will likely have ongoing seizures…."

"We get cases like this all the time, Dix."

"No we don't Kell! This was criminal negligence, nothing less!"

"What do you mean?" He was worried – these were pretty serious charges if they were true, and he wasn't yet clear on whom Dixie was accusing.

"When that baby was born three months ago, he was perfectly healthy. I have all his charts – there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. Just before going home, his mother had him circumcised - just a routine operation - performed hundreds of times a year in this hospital alone." Kelly nodded and waited for her to continue. "A few days ago, his mother brought him in to Emergency. You weren't here. Dr Varner took the case." They rounded the far side of the hospital, almost back at the emergency entrance.

"What happened?"

"The baby had a high fever and was seizing. His wound from his circumcision was severely infected – Dr Varner thinks that it hadn't been cleaned or taken care of at all since the child's release from hospital…80 days before. Eighty days, Kell! The agony that child must have suffered! The infection led to encephalitis, which has now eaten a good part of his brain! A healthy baby…there's no reason, NO reason…"

Hot tears fell down her face, and this time she didn't brush them away. They stopped walking and she looked at him fiercely. "Why Kell? Why? Why couldn't she have cleaned him properly? Why didn't someone check on them? Why did she wait so long to bring him in? How did that poor little boy…" she paused and gathered herself together. "I know I shouldn't get emotional and there's absolutely nothing I can do about it. But."

"Have you spoken to anyone else about this?"

Dixie nodded. "I just got off the phone with Child Welfare Services when you found me. They say there's nothing to be done. And if she's able to care for him, the boy will remain with his mother. The alternative is to place him in an institution." Her emotions chased each other across her face like storm clouds racing. "God, Kell! What a choice!"

"He'll never know," he said in an effort to console her.

"No, he'll never know, because that ability has been taken away."

They were stopped in front of the emergency doors. Kelly asked tentatively, "One more time around, Dixie?"

"No, I'm all right now that I've gotten it out of my system. Thanks for listening. You're a good friend."

"I try to be, Dix, I do try." He patted her back and they walked forward as the doors swung open to greet them.


	10. Chapter 10

Life or Death part 10

When the paramedics finally returned to the station, they found that Jane had made them a very large plate of chocolate chip cookies as a thank you for having the Côtés over. Johnny went to the fridge and poured himself a tall glass of milk, offering some to Roy as well. Roy shook his head, and just grabbed a cookie. "How come these are still here? I would've thought they'd be all gone when you got back from the fire," he nodded towards Marco and Chet playing cards at the other end of the table.

Marco replied, "Yeah, well, there was a note saying that if we ate them before you got a chance Jane would hear about it, and we wouldn't get any more cookies for a month."

"She's pretty protective of you, Gage," said Chet.

"I'm impressed you actually listened to her," Johnny responded as he sat down.

"She makes good cookies," explained Mike from the couch, "Didn't want to risk it."

Roy grabbed a second cookie and sat down at the table beside his friend. This time he was the one who restarted their long-ago interrupted conversation. "So, about your views on life and death, Johnny…"

Captain Stanley put down the paper he was reading, looked curiously at his senior paramedic and commented, "That's a pretty heavy question to lay on a man while he's eating cookies, Roy, don't you think?"

"You don't understand, Cap, 'cause you weren't there when Johnny was giving me his philosophy about being a paramedic a couple of shifts ago," said Roy.

Chet snorted, "Philosophy, Gage? Life and death? Seriously?"

Mike came over from the couch to sit at the table as well. He might not contribute much to station conversations in general, but that didn't mean he didn't enjoy a verbal tussle among the other men of the shift. And Kelly and Gage together were always good value.

"Well, I think that life is just what you make it," continued Chet.

"Um, isn't that a pop song? Donny Osmond or something?" asked Roy. "My daughter likes him," he explained in response to the surprised looks the others were giving him.

"Yeah, you got something you wanna tell us, Chet?" goaded John with a grin.

"Hoo, Mr Philosophy! More about the death than the life part, I'd say. The death of intelligence."

"Y'know, Chet, sometimes you…"

The captain interrupted before things could degenerate any further. "Okay, so now I'm curious. What are your thoughts about life and death, John?"

"Okay." That was all the encouragement John needed in order to start up again. "See, we deal with it all the time. Like Roy says, it's the nature of the job. But, that means we're part of the essential meaning of…" BEEEP BOOOP BRAACK! That darn alarm. It insisted on going off just when things were getting interesting. This was obviously one of 'those' shifts.

"Station 51. Child fallen from balcony…"

When the rig and squad pulled up in front of the apartment building, they saw a small crowd gathered around someone lying on the ground. Johnny looked up and saw that a sliding door was open for an apartment balcony…on the third floor. His stomach turned over. He had a pretty good idea what they were going to find in the middle of that crowd.

"Don't you DARE die! Please, please, don't leave me..." the woman holding her little boy's broken body in her arms crooned and wailed and rocked back and forth. Roy gently pried her arms away from her son, all the while talking to her in a soothing voice, "Ma'am, we're paramedics, we're here to check your boy, we're in touch with the hospital; we need to look at him." She couldn't register what he was saying to her, but another woman, older and rather grandmotherly in appearance, took the younger woman and wrapped her in her arms.

Johnny and Roy moved in as soon as the child was liberated from his mother. He was only three years old. There was no point in saying that she shouldn't have picked him up or moved him in any way; it was done. Johnny found a pulse, but it wasn't strong, and fluid was leaking from his nose and ears. There was blood in his mouth. It would be touch and go if they could save him. Marco was sent by Cap up to the balcony to see if the railing was loose or if there were other obvious reasons why the child may have fallen.

A man from the crowd came over to Mike, waiting by the rig, and asked if he could speak to him confidentially. Mike was very surprised but nodded and said, "Sure."

"I, uh, I'm not sure, but I, uh, don't know if that was an accident." Mike felt a chill of fear go through him.

After a moment's pause where the other man didn't continue, Mike said, "Go on."

The other man was obviously very uncomfortable, but gathered himself together and said in a low voice, "There's been a lot of fightin' and cryin' comin' from that apartment. Today was real bad. Mostly complainin' about the noise the kid makes. A man – some guy – doesn't live there, but I think he might be the mom's boyfriend or somethin' - drinks a lot, y'know." He shrugged.

Mike's fear seemed to settle in his stomach. "What are you saying, sir?" he asked.

"I dunno as I'm sayin' anything. Lots of yellin' – couldn't help but hear it was 'bout the kid. Not an easy kid, for sure – seemed to get sick a lot, y'know? Cryin' through the night lots 'o nights. I live just below, y'see, so I hear it all."

Mike just nodded, wishing there was someone else hearing this, like the captain. Or Johnny and Roy – they would know right away what to do, what to say, but he was just an engineer for crying out loud – they didn't get trained on how to deal with this kind of stuff.

The ambulance had arrived, and the paramedics were packing up their gear to go with the child to the hospital. Mike bit at his lower lip. Should he ask for more information? If he told the man to talk to the police, would he do it? He decided to go with something neutral. "Anything else you'd like to tell me?" he asked.

The man shrugged. "Just don't think it was a natural fall, that's all." As the rest of Station 51 returned to the rig, the man looked nervous and backed away quickly, then turned and took off.

"What was that all about?" Cap asked Mike as he came up beside him.

"I didn't get his name. I should've gotten his name!" Mike was frustrated with himself, and now the fellow was gone. Cap could see that his engineer was agitated by something, so he said quietly to him, "Do we need to talk? Something you need to share?"

Mike took a deep breath, and briefly recounted what the stranger had said about the child's injury. Cap pursed his lips and replied, "I'm sorry Mike, but you know you gotta tell that one." He patted Mike on the shoulder consolingly. "Do it now, while it's fresh."

Mike sighed and walked towards the patrolman taking down information from a couple of people in the crowd who were gesturing up at the balcony, and over on the ground where the child had lain. Some days he'd give anything for a nice straight forward factory fire.


	11. Chapter 11

Life or Death part 11

When they got back to the station, Roy and John were there already. The other crewmen were surprised, but then the look on Johnny's face registered. Damn. That was a hard one, and Gage always dealt badly with losing a kid. Even Chet reconsidered ragging on John about his notions of life and death…at least for now.

The run with the child left a bad taste in their mouths that lasted the rest of the shift. Especially for Mike, who had good reason to believe that the fall wasn't an accident. He knew that a detective would be contacting him soon and asking him more questions about his short conversation with the man from the apartment building. That person would also want to talk to the paramedics about the nature of the injuries of the child, and the attitudes of the people nearby while they were treating him. It was a long, arduous process, and no one was anticipating that it would be less than grueling.

Johnny was in the locker room, flipping idly through a magazine someone else had left lying around, and Roy had rechecked the squad for the third time, when he gave up trying to keep himself busy and wandered in to talk to John. "Can I sit down?" he asked his partner. John just raised his eyebrows and shrugged, so Roy sat down beside him on the bench anyway.

"What'cha reading?" Roy asked, but he knew the answer. Johnny didn't have a clue what he was looking at, he just had the magazine open to do something with his hands, and probably couldn't even say what the magazine was about.

"Nuthin'." John put the magazine down on the bench, and looked at Roy, folding his hands together as he spoke. "How's the squad? Do we need to make a run to Rampart?" There was a tinge of hopefulness to his voice, even though he knew very well that there was nothing they needed in terms of supplies. Maybe Roy would say they should go anyway, and it would distract him from his sick brooding about that poor broken little body lying on the asphalt half cradled in his mother's arms….he rubbed his hands compulsively over his face and screwed up his nose in distaste over the direction his thoughts kept turning. He slapped his thighs a couple of times and said to Roy, when the other man didn't answer, "Right. So, I'm uh, I'm gonna go and…" he rose up and looked down at Roy, who was still sitting in the same position, just looking at the floor. It came to him that Roy was probably thinking about his own son, and he sat back down again. "Roy….," he began, but his friend forestalled him.

"Cap just told me some guy at the scene told Mike it probably wasn't an accident." Roy's face reflected his distress over that new information. "Why, Johnny? Why? Why would someone do that to a little kid? Throw him out of a window like so much garbage. Even if he was angry, even if the kid was a real pain…" Roy wasn't able to be coherent due to his confusion and frustration and anger at the thought of that little boy's last moments, the remembrance of his mother's grief.

"I dunno, Roy." Johnny's eyes reflected his friend's distress.

Mike wandered in from the kitchen, and stood in front of the two men, without speaking. They both looked up at him, and saw on his face what must surely be reflected on their own. After a moment, Mike said, "How do you do it?"

They didn't pretend to misunderstand him. Roy's face twisted involuntarily. "I don't think we do, Mike."

"But this isn't new to you. What people do. What they're capable of doing."

Johnny gave a soft snort and then sighed. "It's not new, but it never fails to get at you."

Mike sat down on the bench next to the paramedics. He leaned forward and worked his hands together, not looking at the others. As he opened his mouth to speak, the phone rang shrilly, and all three men sighed. They could hear Cap's response and knew that the detective was on his way.

* * *

"There's nothing we can do at this time. I can't detain someone based on third-hand hearsay. I need a witness. But I'll see what I can do. If the mom comes forward, or the man who spoke to you, then maybe…but even then…"

The men of A shift all looked grim. "So, no justice for the dead child, then," said Chet.

"I know how you all must feel, but it's way things are sometimes. We have a description of the man who made the comments, and we'll try and talk to him, if he does live in the same building. But he might have a grudge or something else might be going on. It'll be almost impossible to make an arrest without some clear evidence. And you know, it might not be true."

Although they all nodded, the thought that the little boy may have been murdered and the killer would never be prosecuted would not be banished.

* * *

"You know what we need?" asked Chet the room in a general fashion after the detective had gone. "We need to plan a party or something."

"You are one sick puppy, Kelly," said Johnny in amazed disgust.

"C'mon, Gage! I'm not talkin' about celebrating these deaths – I'm talking about lookin' at things diff'rently – lookin' at _other_ things…we gotta get outta this funk or it's just gonna drag us down…right, Cap?"

Hank shrugged noncommittally, but Mike agreed. "He's right, guys. We need to do something to change our heads. There's gotta be something we could celebrate."

Johnny's eyes lit up. He had the spark of an idea, but he needed to plan it out a bit before springing it on the others…so he decided he'd better play it down in case someone else got a similar flash of inspiration. He put on a false front, "Whatever, Chet. Like all your ideas, it'll be a miracle if you pull it off," and he started sauntering out of the room.

Chet had had enough and fired a very low shot across Johnny's bow as the latter opened the door to leave, "You know why Johnny has stopped cutting his hair regulation Cap? Cause he couldn't grow a decent 'stache to save his life and it's his way of overcompensating." Zing. Ouch. After the smallest of pauses, Johnny continued on his way without further comment.

"Y'might wanna cover your ass for the next while there, Kelly. Just sayin'."

Chet sighed. "I know Marco, but it was worth it. I was saving that one for a day like today. Things will stir up a bit now, you watch."

"I don't doubt it. I just wonder if you really appreciate what you've done."

"Remember that there are other forces at work here, and trust in the ways of the Phantom."

Hank groaned and threw his head back with his eyes closed, raising his arms above his head. Not again. He knew that humour can be a very effective way of putting a safe distance between something upsetting and oneself. But, it can also be messy, especially when Chet Kelly was the one providing the humour.

* * *

After Captain Stanley had written up his report of the incident and its aftermath, he plunked himself down beside Johnny at the table. He was mentally exhausted, but he remembered the unfinished conversation about life and death that his junior crewman had started a while ago, and he felt he could use a little change of perspective. "So, John, why life and death?"

John pulled himself away from what he was working on and answered his captain sincerely.

"I believe that a man knows who he is when he takes on something bigger than himself – a cause, a job, a relationship maybe - that makes him have meaning and purpose, makes him who he is."

"And did you think that up on your own or did you get it from somewhere?"

"Both. I've been thinkin' 'bout why I became a paramedic and a fireman, and the short answer is I wanted to make a difference through helping people who were in danger. It's big and it's important – it's not somethin' everyone can do, but I can. So, I've been doin' a little readin'."

"Yeah?" asked Marco, putting his newspaper down.

"And? Anything you want to share?" added Chet. Everyone's attention was now on John.

"There's this guy – he was a survivor of a concentration camp – name's Frankl. Not really a philosopher, but he talks a lot about the meaning of life."

"We're listening," said Cap.

"So he said something I thought was pretty neat. Basically we all have a responsibility to other people or some work we're s'posed to do…an' if a man knows _why_ he's living, he can live through just about any situation."

"Hmm. Interesting. Got any more?" Cap was intrigued.

"Yeah. The 'why' will be diff'rent for each person, and even for the same person, depending on what's goin' on in his life – each person has a, mission he calls it, and no one else can do that mission for him. Each life can't be replaced and can't be repeated, so your job is to find your purpose and do it."

"And he learned all this in a concentration camp?"

"Yeah, that's what makes what he says so powerful. He said that when everything else is taken from you, the only thing you've got left is your attitude. And here's where he really got me – he said, "_it did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us_" (Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning).

"Sounds like Kennedy's 'ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country,'" commented Roy.

John nodded, "I got that too, right away. Here's the thing – Kennedy must've read Frankl, 'cause he wrote it way before that speech. But that's why Kennedy got to us – it felt real. Frankl said that _we_ are the ones being questioned by our lives, and we need to answer by our actions. That life means responsibility to find the right actions that answer that question. D'you see? D'you get it?"

"Wow, that's pretty deep, Johnny," said Roy.

"But do you see?"

"It's your attitude that counts – if you see a purpose in what you do. That gives your life it's meaning – answers the question you're being asked," summarized Mike, and Johnny nodded.

"So…if I'm following you, Chet's answer to the question of his life is to make a joke whenever he can," said Cap, trying to lighten the mood.

"I guess so; I guess so," Johnny gave a half-grin in appreciation of what his captain was doing.

Roy smiled, "And yours is to chase every skirt that walks within five feet of you."

"Now you know that's not fair, Roy. I've thought a few times 'bout settlin' down. And I haven't chased any 'skirts' since I met Jane. So maybe my answer used to be to get to know as many beautiful women as I could so I'd be ready when the right one comes along. If she _is _the right one, and I'm not sayin'," he added hastily when he saw Roy's smile starting to widen, and the other men's knowing looks.


	12. Chapter 12

Life or Death part 12

"So Roy tells me that you're into philosophy now, Johnny." Joanne passed him the mashed potatoes and smiled.

"Just thinkin' 'bout some things, Joanne, thanks." John helped himself to a heaping spoonful and gave the dish to Jane who was sitting beside him at the DeSoto's kitchen table.

"Can you share?" Joanne asked.

"What's phi-lo-so…?" interrupted Chris, ever inquisitive.

Roy looked at his son proudly, and said, "Philosophy. Let's see if I can explain it…it's, uh, it's…" He gave up, and asked, "How 'bout you take this one, Jane? You're the school teacher."

"I teach grade one, remember? We hardly do a lot of philosophy," Jane replied, "But I'll see if I can give it to you in a way you'll understand, Chris." She thought for a moment and then said, "It's a way of looking at what happens – our experience – and making links – relationships – that give meaning to it."

"Why would we want to do that?" wondered Chris.

"So that we can give value or worth to the things that really matter, avoid the things that don't matter, and become wiser."

"Why would we want to do that?" Chris asked again, and everyone laughed.

"Y'know, Sport, Socrates was forced to drink poison for being the kind of smarty-pants that always asks 'why'," John said as he ruffled Chris' hair.

"Shows Chris is a real philosopher, then," grinned Roy, and he bent down to whisper loudly into Chris' ear, "Don't worry, nobody has to drink anything they don't want to or what might hurt them. Socrates was a special case." Chris visibly relaxed.

"I know some philosophy too," interjected Joanne.

"Do tell," her husband invited.

"Give a man a fish you feed him for a day, but teach a man to fish…." She paused for effect.

Johnny interrupted, "Yeah, yeah, and you feed him for life," but Joanne looked mischievous and said again, "…teach a man to fish and you're free to go shopping every weekend!"

Everyone laughed and Jane said while raising her glass to Joanne, "Now, that's my kind of philosophy!"

After supper they were sitting around on the patio outside, enjoying the evening breezes that were wafting the scent of flowers from the garden and cooling the air, when Roy asked Johnny to explain further what he had discovered in his thinking. "So explain to me the part about life and death being essential to being a paramedic…"

"I'm not sure what the word is, but there's a name for being the one who stands like at the gate…"

"Like a soldier or a guard, Johnny?" asked Joanne.

"Kinda, but not quite. It's more…when I put on my uniform, I'm not just wearing somethin' for my job. I'm…putting on my fighting clothes."

Roy sat up straighter in his chair. "And when we put on that badge…"

"…we're carrying our shield. Just like a knight or warrior, yeah. You get it, don't you, Roy?"

"I think I do. We are guardians of life. It's our purpose. It's our answer to the question that our lives are asking."

Johnny's smile was a wide as it could be. "You got it. You got it right on, man."

Jane looked at him and felt such love for this man that it seemed to seep right into her bones. And there was something else - a very strong physical desire. She looked at Joanne and saw that she was looking at Roy the same way. A realization hit her and she gave a soft laugh.

"What's up, Jane?" asked John.

"Just that I get something too. Being the guardian of life as you call it, and believing in something bigger than yourself is extremely attractive to the female of the species. It's probably a basic drive to ensure the continuation of the race with someone who will take care of their needs, but boy, is it powerful."

"Uh, what are you saying, exactly?" asked Roy.

Joanne laughed and went to sit on Roy's lap. "That firemen - especially firemen paramedics - are extremely sexy. And apparently, that's the nature of the job," and she kissed him full on the mouth, while Johnny looked at Jane with surprise.

"Like you said, life affirming. Can't get more basic than that, can you?" said Jane while blushing.


End file.
